


No War on the Horizon

by spacego



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cafe Cliche, Coffee Shops, F/M, Falling In Love, M/M, Polytechnics, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacego/pseuds/spacego
Summary: It's the first winter after the war ended. Farlan took a tumble so Isabel called Levi to help her and her small cafe in a sleepy student town. One particularly blustery wet night, when business is slow, the wind blows a man into the cafe's warm haven. Isabel thinks the man is handsome. But Levi is more concerned about those wet shoes, the size of little boats, tracking mud and slush all over the place, undoing all his hard work.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to do another WiP, since I have a bucketload of them already. But research work for [After that Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8230394) was so emotionally draining (crying proverbial buckets), that I needed a pick-me-up. So apologies for yet another WiP, but I hope it's not so bad.
> 
> ***
> 
> On Sep 29, Google Doodle put up a tribute to [Ladislao Biro](https://www.google.com/doodles/ladislao-jose-biros-117th-birthday), and maybe I was the last person on earth to know that the mass-market ballpoint pen was only invented in the 1940s. For some tangential reason, this puppy happened. 
> 
> So, the setting of story is a parallel universe not unlike ours, but there's really no set time frame, only that it will be mid-entury-ish (30s-60s?) But, you will find, there's some speech patterns, objects, situations, and references will definitely be all over the place and might not be from when/where they should. I hope it won't be too confusing or jarring.
> 
> Although it may start with just a few people, the rest of the gang will definitely make an appearance. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think. (-;

 

 

It's the first winter after the War ended. After long bitter years, the Peace Accords was finally signed at the height of Summer. The ballpoint pen was a new invention and had been around for just a year. Maybe if it were invented earlier, they would've signed for peace much earlier as well. Levi laughed at himself at his ridiculous thought. This new scent of peace had made him go mad. Well, crazier than usual, maybe. He must admit, a war-ending pen sounded better than the actual bombs that won them their war.

But Peace was Peace, even if it remained a tentative one. Small skirmishes along the border. Boatloads of homeless people. At least, in this sleepy student town, life was as normal as it could be. Hopefully come Spring everything would be better.

First, though, they would have to survive the winter, this unseasonably warm winter, when the thermostat struggled to get below zero most days. Though it did make for some amusing fashion choices.

Though not freezing all the time, it was really wet and windy. Wicked winds and nonstop drizzle whenever it failed to snow. When it did snow, it was only enough to create slush that was tracked into the shop with every new customer.

It was a little past nine at night when Levi's patience finally snapped.

Isabel was at the cash register, taking orders from the latest customer. Some coffee, a sweet pastry and a savory sandwich. He was tall and broad like an oak tree, with windblown blonde hair to match windblown dark trenchcoat. Wet pant hems, and wet shoes the size of little boats. Levi's eyes followed a trail of sludge and mud all the way back to the entrance, where glass doors rattled fiercely against the howling wind outside.

Levi huffed all the way to the cleaning closet, reached for some rags and his mop.

"You know what? I'm closing up the shop," he told Isabel, who was putting together a sandwich tower.

There's still ninety-plus minutes left on the clock, but Isabel saw the trail of mud from the door to the counter, and from the register to the farthest corner of the shop where the customer now sat. She gave a small shrug and said, "Fine." Business was already slowing anyway, the shop's empty except for this one customer, who was the first since the past half-hour.

"Thanks, boss," Levi said with mock deference, earning him a slap on the back that propelled him toward the door. With a flick of his wrist, the square sign on the glass turned from "We're Open! Step On In!" to "Go Away! We're Closed!". He flicked the lock, just in case an illiterate customer tried to push in.

Their conversation must've reached the man, who had been in the middle of taking out a stack of papers from a battered bag. It was fascinating to see the movement being aborted, now the man was pushing papers back into the bag. The man turned to them. "I'll just have my order to go, then," he said in a nice deep baritone.

He was trying to push paper into his bag, and push himself up off his seat at the same time. Levi's eyes were too glued on the movements of mud-caked shoes to notice anything else. "No, sit down!" he yelled from his side of the store, perhaps with too much force behind his words. "Don't move!"

As though someone used to receiving orders, the man stopped completely. Halted everything he was doing and froze mid-gesture.

Levi was across the store in a blink of an eye, throwing the rags onto the floor next to the man's feet. "Put your shoes on these," he told the man, clutching his mop like it was a loaded shotgun.

The man's shift from statue-frozen to movement should've been awkward, but there's an efficiency about it that fascinated the hell out of Levi. He also realized how blue the man's eyes were, the same eyes that looked down at muddy shoes on rags, and traced back up the tiles. Eyes that widened in realization.

"Oh, sorry about that," the man said, contritely, now rubbing the soles of his feet vigorously on the rag, manipulating the piece of cloth so it could reach the sides and tops of well-worn shoes. Then he leaned down, angling one hand to reach dirty cloth when everything tumbled onto he floor--his bag, his papers, some pencils spilling off one pocket, and one fountain pen out of the other. Damp trenchcoat that had been slung across an empty seat was pulled down as well, tangled as it was around the bag's frayed strap. "So sorry," the man mumbled, tumbling out of his chair to collect everything as fast as he could...

...with one hand.

Why didn't he see it before? Levi wondered. He who prided himself at being attentive to the goings-on around him. Now he saw the way the right sleeve of his cotton shirt was pinned up to a stump that had been cut above the elbow.

He ditched his mop with a clatter and kneeled next to the man to help. Isabel came over with a tray of the man's orders and placed it on the far end of the table. She crouched down to help as well.

Between the three of them, they managed to get the papers squared off, pencils and pen corralled before they could roll too far, trenchcoat dusted and folded neatly on the back of an empty chair, with the bag leaning against it. Shoes were cleaned as much as they could be, mud mopped and rags disposed off, then it's everyone back to their battle stations, so to speak.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Levi saw the man staring down at the tray of food and coffee in front of him, as though the one mug and two plates held poison of various kinds. But he kept his mouth shut and his head down, finished his mopping, instead.

"Maybe I'll just have these to-go," the man finally spoke up, angling his upper body to face the counter where Isabel was standing.

"Are you in a hurry to go anywhere?" Levi cut in, before Isabel could say anything, his voice muffled from being inside the broom closet.

"No. Not really. But you said you're closing up."

"We're technically open until ten thirty, but that's ninety more minutes of potential muddy boots that Levi here can't stand anymore," Isabel said from where she was boxing up leftover food from the display case.

The man looked contrite and shifted his legs beneath the table. "Sorry about that."

"Yeah, well. You're not the only one," Levi huffed as he emerged back out with a clatter. "The welcome mat is not just for decoration you know."

* * *

 

Erwin was the man's name, Levi learned from the order slip in his hand. One extra large long black coffee, one pain au chocolat, one egg and cress sandwich. He bundled Erwin's order with the other salmon-colored slips and tied them all off with a rubber band. Not bad for a day's work, he smiled, finger tapping over the good round number written on the tally sheet stuck on top of the bundle. Isabel was at the register, counting the money.

Leaning against the counter, careful not to leave fingerprint smudges all over his gleaming hard work, he examined Erwin's straightbacked profile. Levi admired that graceful bowing neck, those long fingers of his left hand was wrapped around a long pencil, and the sparse movements of pencil across paper held down by a plain block of wooden paperweight.

It's eleven fifteen, now. Isabel had taken away the man's mug and two plates a while ago, but told the man he could stay if he wanted to. As long as he stayed put and not bother their cleaning, Levi had added. The man had smiled gratefully and gone back to his writing.

Levi wondered if the man was from the Polytechnic up the road. He wrote almost continuously, long and an awful lot on each paper. Either he was writing an essay, or he was grading a particularly crappy set of papers. He would wear down the black end of each pencil to the wooden part before switching. He didn't have a sharpening tool with him, though he seemed to have an endless supply of pencils in his bag. A good tree's worth, on Levi's estimation, especially since each paper needed at least two pencils.

Erwin looked a bit older than most students that came into the shop, Levi thought, even older than the egghead doctorates he'd seen. But, now that the war's over, more older people were going back to school again. Or, maybe Erwin was a lecturer, or just someone who worked there. He also wondered about the arm. Was it from the war, or was it something else?

His train of thought was cut short when he heard the money drawer clicked. "All done, Iz?"

"Yeah, good takings today," she replied. She slipped a few colorful bills out of the stack of money and offered them to him.

"Nah, keep it. For the baby," he said, waving her off. "Or for Farlan's meds."

Isabel hesitated as she always did, even though it had been a while since Levi came in to help with work around the shop and declined payment every time. But she relented, as always. She said, "Fine. But take the food with you," as she always did. "You'll tell me if you need..."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, already putting his share of the food inside his duffel bag, next to the two thermos of tea, which he would not open until the morning, when they would be very strong and very bitter.

"You know, you're still welcome to stay once Farlan's back in commission again, right?" _Poor poor Farlan_ , she thought, as she stuffed money into a bank's pouch and filled the deposit slip that came with it. One arm and one leg, on opposite sides, in casts after a nasty fall. One minute he was up a ladder fixing the rain gutter, the next minute he's down on the ground in a tangle of broken limbs. That he didn't break his neck was a miracle she was thankful for each day.

"He can't even change the baby's diaper without getting winded, Iz. We'll talk again when he's better," Levi said, straightening up, He looked around and smiled. "Anyway, I've always liked it here."

"Yeah," Isabel said, her smile mirrored Levi's, but sunnier. She looked down and saw that she was standing right where she stood when Farlan proposed to her all those years ago. She looked up the first menu board that Levi had ever put up, now worn wood and flaking paint. If she looked around, she'd find a lot of memories. And sometimes she did--early in the morning, once prep's over; in the lull between service; late at night, before locking up.

Soon, Levi and one-armed man--Mr. Erwin, she reminded herself--were outside, waving at her and wishing her goodnight. She locked all the doors, switched off all the heaters and lights, and went up the back stairs to where Farlan and the baby were already asleep, curled around each other in their bed--a big puppy and a small puppy.

Out of her window, she watched Levi and Mr. Erwin walk to the bank across the road, where Mr. Erwin hung back while Levi pushed the shop's money pouch through the overnight deposit slot embedded into thick brick wall. She watched the the two of them talk, one tall and one short, facing each other under a street lamp that flickered. She didn't stop watching until they parted abruptly--not even a handshake, she frowned--walking to the opposite ends of the road.

* * *

 

The shop was open until ten thirty every day, but customers--mostly students--had stopped coming after nine thirty, at most, since the honkatonk down the street started opening its doors at quarter to ten. Lines were already long way before then.

In no time at all Erwin became a Regular, with a capital R. The kind of regular who arrived at the same time, ordered the same things, sat at the same place, did the same things where they sat, and left the same time. Thankfully, he also took Levi's words to heart and conscientiously wiped his shoes clean on the welcome mat before entering.

Even so, Levi didn't learn anything much about Erwin other than he was indeed a lecturer at the Polytechnic, and part of the Built Environment department. He taught general entry courses like maths, but also land survey techniques for urban settings. This last one seemed to be his passion, judging from the way he lit up when he spoke about it. He had many ideas about rebuilding bombed out towns and cities, of which there were many after the War.

Levi heard a lot about it from the students who came in, talking and bragging among themselves. They wanted to be engineers and architects, they wanted to graduate quickly and make a killing in the property market. Well, that's one way to make a living, Levi thought, more power to you.

But Erwin didn't seem at all like his money-minded career-driven students. The way Erwin spoke, he sounded like those ivory tower philosophers or pro-bono activists. All higher purpose and greater good wide-eyed idealism.

Levi couldn't decide which one's better. But, one thing he knew: Levi loved to listen to Erwin speak about his vision. How he enthusiastically spoke about them even at the smallest prompting. He looked so different when he spoke this way, Levi marveled, like he finally came alive. The way Erwin talked made Levi believe in a future--a good one.

But those occasions were few and far in between. Because Levi enjoyed his silence and would never start a conversation if he didn't have to. Because Erwin was too polite to start a conversation for fear of encroaching someone's personal time and space.

Sometimes, Levi wished Erwin would stop being so polite and _encroach already_. Sometimes, Levi wished he could just drop his mop and _just ask_. It's just words. They couldn't hurt to ask, could they?

So, there they were, three weeks and one day later.

At nine Erwin would come, wipe his shoes five times on each side on the welcome mat. Maybe a tad bit overzealous, but Levi appreciated the hell out of this gesture.

Erwin would push the door open, then quickly push it close again. Cold air never came with him, warm air stayed inside.

When he got to the cash register, Isabel would always beat him to his order, "One long black. One pain au chocolat. One egg and cress, coming up," she'd say.

And Erwin would answer, "Yes, that's right." Followed by a "How's your day?" followed by several crisply folded bills and a "Keep the change."

Levi's job in all this was to entertain Erwin. Because, except for the first day when he tracked mud all the way to his seat, Erwin preferred standing just to the side of the counter waiting for his tray.

"Are they really good?" Levi asked, as he stacked dry mugs next to the coffee maker.

"What?" Erwin sounded rather distracted.

"The food. Do you really _love_ those things, or are you just one of those people who does everything a particular way?"

"Like you and your cleaning?" Nowadays, Erwin was also a bit more unapologetic with his ribbing. Only a week ago, teasing Levi's cleaning habits would never cross his mind, let alone his lips, just in case Levi took it to heart. But Levi knew those words were not malicious, and said in good faith.

After all, Levi liked how those eyes twinkled mischievously. He sometimes wished he was a Literature major, so he could wax poetic about those eyes just once.

"Yeah, like me and my cleaning," Levi answered instead, with a prodigious eye-roll. "Are you neurotic like me?"

"No. I just like them." A pause. "I mean they're not bad." A longer pause. "Okay, so maybe I also like structure."

Levi snorted. _"Structure?_ Is that what they call it nowadays?" Nevertheless, he arranged one steaming mug and two food-laden plates on a tray just like so, in a way that would balance well for Erwin's one-handed carry.

Once Erwin got to his chair, it was the end of their conversation.

At ten thirty, Isabel would collect the tray, mug, and plates, and invite Erwin to stay if he wanted. Erwin would say thank you and tuck his long wool-clad legs under the table much closer together, so Levi could sweep and mop around him.

At eleven thirty, Erwin would walk Levi across the street--like a shield against sparse late-night traffic, like a shield against muggers--to the bank's overnight deposit dropbox.

Levi did bristle, at the thought of being protected like a damsel in distress, but "I know you can deck someone at fourteen paces, Levi," Isabel had said one day when Levi complained. "Just think he's extra protection for my money, okay?"

He admitted that those long legs must be useful to chase muggers down. One-armed, Erwin wouldn't be of much help other than to hold the mugger down while Levi punch the shit out of this imaginary person.

Feeling slightly empowered, but also slightly guilty about joking about Erwin's disability (only slightly, because he really didn't mean anything malicious with it), Levi always kept his trap shut all the while and let Erwin accompany him across the street every time. He learned to tolerate it; Erwin was warm and Levi got cold easily, anyway, no matter how many layers he put on.

Then, they would chat a while under the flickering gas lamp standing in front of the bank. And they would part ways.

That's what they always did. Until one day they didn't.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The greengrocer's was unattended; all manners of fruits and vegetable hung out in the open, completely unsupervised, vulnerable to thieving fingers. But school had officially adjourned for winter break, and the last of those penny-pinching vegetable-eating students had gone. Those who decided to spend their winter break in town were not fans of rutabagas or brusselsprouts anyway.  
  
He was the store's only customer, and the street was unusually sleepy this fine winter morning. There's no early market rush, thanks in part to the sudden cold weather.  
  
Levi knew many of the townspeople were either still buried under their warm covers (because that's what _he_  wanted to do) or shoveling several inches of snow that magically appeared overnight (because that's what he ended up doing after he was rudely awakened by Isabel; at least Farlan managed to look apologetic).  
  
"Moby!" Levi called out, louder than necessary. There were some clangs and bangs and curses coming out from the back room. " _Moby_!" He called again, louder still, all the while scooping up multicolored dried beans into a paper bag, balancing a tied up bunch of leeks against one side of the bean crate. "Moby! I'm going to leave without paying if you don't come out!"  
  
He was in the middle of piling several boulder-sized blue-hued winter squash into his pull-along basket, and when a harried looking man emerged, wiping a hand down the front of a dusty green apron.  
  
"Sorry, Levi," Moblit said in between taking long, deep breaths, puffing cold air like a gasless dragon.  
  
"'S okay," he mumbled, eyeing the appealing sack of sweet potatoes _Hmm... sweet potato chips. Or maybe... no!_ he snapped his mental wallet shut. "I left the money next to the cash register."  
  
Moblit craned his neck to look at the neat arrangement of fruits, beans, and veg in Levi's pull-along, and counted the money. "Yeah, seems about right. Thanks Levi," Moblit pushed paper and coin into the money drawer in a messy way that made Levi cringe instinctively.  
  
"You seem busy," Levi remarked instead, fiddling the carrot display in front of him. He lined them up like leafy orange crayons in their box, tallest at the back, shortest in front.  
  
"Just received some shipments for Hange's greenhouse," Moblit said, writing out a receipt for Levi. Every so often, he pushed dirty-blonde bangs out of his eyes. "And something for the home lab, too." This one was said with a wince and an eyeroll. Levi could faintly hear some colorful words filtering through the thin ceiling from the residence above the shop.  
  
Levi knew Hange as Moblit's business partner and co-owner of the store-- _Mange_ , it was called, meaning eat. But more importantly, it was a portmanteau of the letters that made their front names. Put together, their names spelled a word that described an act so integral to keeping oneself alive, next to breathing. Sometimes Moblit could be tooth-rottingly saccharine with his life like that, Levi mused.  
  
"But you only get one letter out of five," Levi had asked, quite a while ago, an idle observation devoid of any judgement.  
  
"Welcome to my life!" Moblit had replied, extremely fondly. "That's Hange for you!" It was what made their partnership work, Moblit had explained. He would start, but Hange would finish with a flourish and a half. "It fits us."  
  
Anyway, that's the extent of Levi's factual knowledge about Moblit's elusive business partner, really. He had never met Hange in person, and was never nosy enough to ask to be introduced. He had seen glimpses of a person that he thought could be Hange--dark hair, most-probably black, and a pair of glasses. Moblit was equally unforthcoming; he never offered an introduction, never said much about anything without prompting.  
  
"What are you trying to grow now?"  
  
"Well, _Hange_  is trying to breed this hardier kind of lettuce," Moblit said, happy enough to preemptively put all the blame on his partner. "And also some snow peas, as usual, and... er... extra-strong asparagus." There was a strong blush over the apples of his cheeks.  
  
"Is Hange still going on about aphrodisiac in asparagus?" Levi had heard about the same project last winter; it had failed back then. _I guess they're trying again_. "Even a middle school drop-out like me knows that you double the strength, you double the smell. It's impossible to keep l'amour in the air long enough when you stink like a skunk."  
  
"Don't let Hange hear you." Because Hange believed that the word _impossible_  should never exist.  
  
"I still value my life," Levi said soberly, making a zippy gesture across his mouth. He didn't need his almonds tasting like cyanide the next time he bought a bag. "Right, I'm off! Be seein' you around, Moby. Good luck on your lovesparagus!"  
  
Levi could vaguely hear Moblit grumbling. But Levi knew the grumbling was just for show. Because Levi, uneducated though he may be, knew that whatever it was that Moblit and Hange shared, it's not just business. Even a deaf person could hear the love and affection behind Moblit's words.  
  
Well, if anyone could make an odorless asparagus with enough stimulants to breed an elephant, Levi mused, these two would be the ones to do it.  
  
Whenever Moblit spoke about his partner's many projects--hybrid vegetables, exotic plants, mutant insects--trust, pride, and love poured out of his mouth and from every pore. It should be embarrassing or disgustingly trite, but it's actually not. And if Levi were honest, he might be a bit jealous too. Not for the first time Levi wished to find someone who would love him like that.

* * *

  
  
_Crappy weather making me all sappy_ , Levi grumbled, pulling his coat tightly around him.  
  
Ice crunched underneath his shoes, worn soles made navigating frozen cobble-stone streets difficult, the muscles in his legs was starting to ache from him constantly bracing to stay upright and moving forward. The air was clear, if a bit sharp on the nose. Any colder, his nose would start to bleed, if not fall off completely. _What rotten weather._  
  
After several weeks of above-zero temperature, winter was finally back with a vengeance. He thought he would rather mop a thousand sludgey footprints and swore to never grumble about wind and drizzle again.  
  
Lost in thought and self-pity, he almost didn't see a rat lying in the middle of the footpath, its mangy body frozen midstride. He swore aloud as he stopped himself from falling onto the rat, and wrestled his pull-along to veer off-track so its wheels wouldn't run over that gross thing.  
  
He looked up from dead rat only to see a frozen female body being scooped up unceremoniously by the constabulary--her whole body was curved inward, tightly like an armadillo; clothes (that were really just brown rags) stuck to her like a rigid shroud, hair plastered onto her face obscuring her from the world.  
  
He swallowed bile past the lump in his throat. It reminded him too much of his rough-sleeping days. But he had been very young, and everything had felt like a daring adventure. _Shit._ He could've easily died back then.  
  
He forced himself to look away, hurrying along. He tried to focus on other things. Most of the street-dwellers and homeless people did manage to make it indoors, sequestered behind convent walls and inside emergency shelters.  That's good, right?  
  
Another dead rat lay ahead. He still needed to go to the fishmongers. Isabel would kill _him_ if he dawdled.

 

**********

  
  
He hauled fruits, veg, beans, broth bones, and cheap fish through the cafe's back door, just in time for Isabel to chew him out for being late. He was supposed to help with breakfast service (or at least the tail end of it), but he had missed it completely.  
  
Which suited him just fine. The breakfast crowd was the worst kind of crowd, in his opinion--under-caffeinated, over-finicky, and short-fused as only people who disliked waking up in the morning could be.  
  
He surveyed the kitchen, and wondered which one he should tackle first. Should it be the leaning tower of crockery? He saw one coffee cup already broken inside the sink. Isabel had used all of their pots and pans, too. All in all, it's nice to see evidence of a good turnout even without the school stampede.  
  
Peeking around the corner, he breathed a sigh of relief to see that the dining area was largely clean. Without usual gaggle of uncouth students and uncultured little children, chaos was minimal. He saw Farlan gamely hopping around in his cast and scrubbing the table while sitting down.  
  
Stowing his pull-along basket in the cold pantry, he rolled his sleeves and was about to tackle the washing when Isabel came into the kitchen.  
  
"I know I said I'll go down the shelter, but it's baby feeding time," Isabel told him sheepishly. She had one hand on her hip and another hand gingerly on her chest; she might need to pump out as well, by the looks of it. Levi sighed, then grimaced in sympathy. Sure his feet hurt from walking halfway across the city, but at least he didn't have all these bodily pains a nursing mother had to deal with. And a finicky, no-concept-of-time baby on top of it. _So much hassle_ , Levi thought darkly.  
  
He dried his hands on his apron, told her to sit down with a sharper tone than necessary. "I'll go," he said. Every day, Isabel would pack up what's left from breakfast service--sandwiches, thermoses of bitter, smokey coffee (no tea, that's for Levi), and some soup--to donate to the shelter nearby. There's always leftover, because she always made more than enough.  
  
"If you find someone at the shelter that you think can help, bring them back, okay?" Isabel told him when he was already out of the door. Arms laden with carry baskets and trays. "We can pay."  


* * *

  
  
He came back with, not one homeless person, but three small urchins--one girl and two boys. He found them on his way back from the shelter, behind the cafe's garbage bins. He wondered how he had missed them the first time. They had been sleeping, curled tightly around one another. The noises he made must've woken them up.  
  
Isabel swooped down on them, baby on her hip. She cooed and fussed over them, scrubbed them clean in the mud room by the kitchen, and dressed them in the smallest clothes she could find--adult shirts that looked like sleeping shirts on the three kids. They sat down in the corner of the kitchen, gobbling up plain bread and Levi's tea.  
  
"Those three..." Isabel said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes; Farlan sniffled beside her. She didn't have to say it--the three kids reminded the three grownups of their own childhood.

 _Us three, against the world._  
  
Levi merely nodded from where he stood in front of the sink, scrubbing plates with far more force than necessary.

 

**********

  
  
Children wherever they came from--a manor house, or a garbage bin--were never made for sitting still. That's what Levi thought anyway. Once they ate all their sandwiches and drank their body weight in tea, they became restless.  
  
Isabel didn't want to put them to work. "We are _not_  running a child labor racket!" she had exclaimed, almost waking up the baby.  
  
"We're just distracting them from potential mischief," Levi had said, all the while showing the kids how he wanted them to gut a squash. "You make it sound like we're selling them off to a plantation somewhere!"  
  
The kitchen was soon filled with chatter and laughter, as the children made a game out of their chores. Levi's growled and threatened half-heartedly whenever he thought they were horsing around too much.  
  
The whole day was unexpectedly busy, but Levi ran a tight ship in the kitchen. Isabel poked her head in now and then, reading off orders, mostly parties of two and four. She smiled whenever Levi acknowledged her, and was happy to see the children fitting right in there with him. It's as if they had been working there for ages, instead of just a day.  
  
Farlan made sure they had water and crackers every hour, and then a hearty meal once lunch rush was over. "Treating them like babies," Levi clicked his tongue, and grumbled under his breath.  
  
"Yeah!" the three children chorused with mouthfuls of food, trying to look all grown up, but failing miserably.  
  
Levi felt a small pang of guilt when he saw their happy but tired faces, so he promptly overcompensated by forcing them to take a nap. The little girl, who had been the most solemn of the bunch, all but mutinied, stomping her little feet and got into a verbal joust with Levi. Five minutes later, bone tired and full of warm food, she fell asleep mid-speech; her two friends were already asleep, heads on folded arms over the kitchen counter.

* * *

  
  
It was only at the end of the day that Levi realized nobody had asked the children their names. Levi had been calling them 'hey you', or 'girl', or 'brat, or 'not you; the other brat' throughout the day.  
  
Tangentially, for the first time that day, Levi realized he missed Erwin, too.

(Though if someone told him that his heart just skipped a beat just then, he'd laugh at them)  
  
Like most of the Poly's students and staff, Erwin had gone the hell away out of town at the start of winter break. That was a week ago. Levi idly wondered where the man might be, and what he might be doing.  
  
He wanted to introduce the kids to Erwin, because he knew Erwin would enjoy meeting them. Levi didn't mind children; he's been around them most of his life. But, Erwin seemed to be the kind of person who genuinely enjoyed being around anklebiters.  
  
He sighed, ushering the children--Mikasa the girl, and the two boys black-haired Eren and white-gold Armin--out of the cafe. They waved dutifully at Isabel who watched them from her second-storey window.  
  
The children walked ahead of him, where he could see them. They were talking among themselves, high-pitched and quick-paced like little mice, bundled up in mismatched hand-me-down things that Isabel managed to get from the neighbors. Eren wore a trenchcoat that looked like a much smaller version of Erwin's.  
  
Erwin was not the only Regular to have gone home for the winter, so to speak, but he was the only one whose absence Levi keenly felt. He didn't know what to think of this sudden revelation.  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic has turned out to be one of those that were inspired by objects, where every chapter is based on a thing and grew into an indecipherable thing.
> 
> List of references:  
> Ch 1. Mass-market ballpoint pen ([Biro/Birome](https://www.asme.org/about-asme/who-we-are/engineering-history/landmarks/236-birome-ballpoint-pen-collection), first patented 1938 in Hungary, first marketed 1944 in Argentina)  
> Ch 2. Skunk l'amour. In reference to Pepe Le Pew (first appearance 1945 in _[Odor-Able Kitty](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0037956/plotsummary?ref_=tt_stry_pl)_ ).
> 
> M&H Greens, or _Mange_  
>  I was told that the proper verb of 'to eat' is "manger", not "mange" like the shop name, but let's just pretend in /this/ universe, this is what happened *runs away*  
> In addition, /mange tout/ reminds me of Titans eating all of the human; and also [Monsieur Mangetout](http://tailgatefan.cbslocal.com/2012/10/01/michel-lotito-the-man-who-ate-an-airplane-and-everything-else/) (b. 1950), the metal eater that represents quirky mutant diets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter might seem so unseasonal. I hope you will forgive me.  
> Thank you to everyone!

"What do you think of Mr. Erwin?" Isabel asked him. "Wouldn't it be nice if Mr. Erwin can join us for dinner, some time?"

They were in the kitchen doing prep work for dinner service, the last one before the caf's three-day holiday break. The kids were peeling potatoes by the sackful, leaving potato skin and potato eyes strewn all over the floor. Farlan was on baby duty, which was actually rather difficult to do, surrounded as he was by so many sharp things.

"Why do you ask?" Levi asked, grimacing distastefully at the fish he was cleaning. The fish's dead eye stared back at him judgmentally. Like it was telling him it didn't like the way Levi was handling it. He yanked out its intestines and let it fall with a plop next to a mound of scales in the sink.

"It'd be a nice gesture, you know, inviting a Regular to dinner," Isabel hedged, standing at the herb-chopper, surrounded by gleaming glass jars.

"I don't see you inviting Darius Zackley over to dinner," Levi bit out. Oh, he felt ill suddenly. He didn't even like thinking about that man. Mr. Zackley was well-groomed and polite, came to the shop twice a day and ordered well, but he _felt_ really slimy and had gotten too friendly with Isabel.

"I'd sooner gut him like a fish," Farlan cut in from across the room, darkly and within earshot of the kids who picked up on it.

"Yeah! Gut him like a _fish_!" the kids chorused, brandishing potato-peelers like pirate swords. They must've found the image amusing, as they broke into peals of laughter.

"That's beside the point," Levi interjected, setting aside one fish and began working with another. "We don't know where he's even at. He could be half way in Antarctica by now."

"Why would he be in Antarctica?"

"Where is Antarctica?" Little Armin chirped. He was an inquisitive boy, with a bottomless appetite for knowledge. He was generally quiet, but Levi had found early on that the boy was almost impossible to shut up once he got going on some obscure trivia or some vexing question. Levi had no doubt that Erwin would like the boy.

"At the bottom of the earth," Isabel told the boy, then turned to Levi. "You could try asking Hange, she works up at the Poly, you know?"

Of course Levi didn't know. "Hange? Moblit's Hange?"

"Yes. Anyway, I don't mean that we have to do it right now," Isabel replied, jabbing the air with her finger to make an emphasis. "Plenty of time after the holidays."

 _Even so_. "Why would he want to have dinner with us? Surely he has family or friends he'd rather spend time with. Friends that are less annoying than two caf-owners that I happen to know."

Levi narrowed his eyes when he saw Isabel smile the kind of smile she made when she had some amusing secret.

"You know something, don't you?" Levi asked, and didn't miss the looks exchanged between his friends. "What?"

"You have it bad," Farlan said, bouncing a gurgling baby on his uninjured leg.

"Shut up, Farley," he groused.

The baby saw Levi and waved. Before he could stop himself, he waved back with a stupid grin on his face.

"I take back what I said," Farlan grinned. "You have it _really_  bad."

"Shut _up_ , Farley!"

"Yeah, shut _up_ , Farley!" His three little echoes piped out, picking up bad habits as easy as breathing.

 

**********

 

These days, rather than having a dark shadow towering over him as he crossed the road and put money in the bank, he had a ring of three children. This night, they each had a carrot, waving them around like wands. Even in the stiff almost-Christmas night, they had their coats unbuttoned, so they could pretend they were wearing magician cloaks. All they needed were top hats.

"Okay that's enough, you three," Levi said, he's really not looking forward to have three sick kids if he could avoid it. "Wands in! Button up!"

The three apprentice magicians quickly did what they were told.

They headed home, and only stopped chattering when Levi finally promised to take them Christmas shopping tomorrow. He always tried to avoid that very special hell otherwise known as Christmas Eve shopping, but he really needed them to shut up.

 

* * *

 

Salvation came in the form of Isabel, Farlan, and Baby (what's the baby's name? Levi wondered. He kept forgetting). When he turned up early at the caf's back door, Isabel took one look at his face--alternating between resignation and irritation--and told him _she_  would be taking the kids out for Christmas shopping.

"You could look a little less relieved, you know," Isabel chided as she checked the children's caps and mittens before ushering them out of the door. Farlan hopped stoicly behind them, pushing the baby's pram along with one crutch. Despite the casts, he looked nimble and at ease. Most of all, he looked happy to be out from the house after being cooped up for so long.

He watched until all six of them disappeared around the corner before eyeing the kitchen and dining hall. Twice a year, Isabel's cafe would get a deep cleaning, and it was a ritual for him that he never missed. In his opinion, Isabel was a good cook but a terrible cleaner. Farlan was nothing special on both counts, but could be relied upon to follow orders. He would have liked to have either Eren (a bit clumsy but did not ask too many questions) or Mikasa (a bit slower but more thorough) to help him, if he could, but isolation was fine for him too.

 

**********

 

The shop's bell jingled and jangled like someone was trying to force themselves into the shop through a locked door.

Frowning at the interruption to his good scrubbing rhythm, Levi stomped out of the kitchen and into the dining hall.

The winter sun's hit him squarely in the eye with its bright white glare. _Maybe Iz and Farley need to invest on some blinds_ , was his first thought. He didn't realize how late in the morning it was, so engrossed was he in his task. The bell jangled again, then jingled urgently, and his irritation grew. "We're closed!" he yelled.

"I know." The voice was muffled by cheap double glazed doors and windows, but it was eminently recognizable.

Levi really didn't want to look so eager, so he walked slowly toward the door, twisted the key and yanked the door open viciously. "Aren't you supposed to be away on holiday?" he asked, squinting up and cramping his neck in the process. He eyed the gleaming blond mop on the man's head, and tried not to feel disturbed that he knew it was freshly cut.

"I was away, but I'm back now. And I _am_  still on holiday," Erwin replied, smiling. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"We're closed."

"I know. But I'm not here as a customer."

"We don't accept solicitations." Levi pointed at the sign hanging precariously on the wall by the front door.

> NO LOITERING
> 
> NO SOLICITING
> 
> NO PANHANDLING
> 
> OF ANY KIND

It was bright red against red brick wall. It had an "Or Else" vibe to it.

"Well, just as well that I'm not here asking for donations," Erwin said, with infinite patience, nodding at the bundle cradled in his arm. "I'm donating."

Levi wondered how he had missed seeing the sack the first time. Considering it was huge and directly at his eye-level, such was his body's vertical limitation compared to Erwin's. It was a sackful of carrots, with _Mange_  emblazoned across the bag in faded fabric paint.

"I met Isabel at Moblit and Hange's," Erwin spoke when Levi failed to say anything or move aside. "Isabel was telling us about the Christmas Do at the orphanage."

"What did she say?" Levi asked, eyes narrowing. Isabel better not say too much.

"Just that she needed carrots for the spud-and-carrot mash she wants to make. Moblit and Hange donated these carrots."

Levi liked the way Erwin said "Moblit and Hange", in the same breath and with same inflection, like the two words belonged together. Like they were one entity. It's sort of endearing, this kind of acceptance on Erwin's part. He decided not to dwell on it.

"I thought you said that you're the one donating them?" he asked instead.

"Well. I'm donating the legwork and grunt work if that's okay with you," Erwin replied, calm, unruffled and maddening by turns. "So, is it a good enough reason for you to let me in?"

 

**********

 

Part of the kitchen was gleaming, and part of it was still wet but finally clean. The dining hall was _accès interdit_  until it could be scrubbed, wiped, and mopped and dried, so Erwin, his carrots and every single potato from Isabel's stockpile were relegated to a corner under the stairs that led to the second-floor residence. Newspaper were spread underneath his three-legged stool and all around the perimeter.

Every once in a while, Levi would steal glances through the narrow doorway, and watch Erwin work--with a potato or a carrot balanced between his knees. The movements of Erwin's hand and peeler, coupled with the soft sounds of rhythmic scrape-scrape-scrape, were rather mesmerizing, he found. Sometimes there's a snick-snick-snick counterpoint as Erwin deftly gouged out stubborn potato eyes--Isabel always had too much potatoes around, and some of them were already growing into half-mutant things.

The man had waved away Levi's offer for a lunch of cold-cut sandwich, saying that he had eaten a late breakfast before coming in. The same man shamelessly drank all the contents of Levi's teapot before returning to his work.

Meanwhile, Levi had to wave away several more hungry hopefuls peeking through the open windows, mouthing "we're closed" to dejected faces. He noted how they left gross fingerprints and breath mists on the front of the windows.

All in all, there were not very many interruptions. Shadows grew longer and the two men toiled quietly at their self-appointed tasks. Levi decided he liked this sort of solitude, of having a quiet companion around the place. Despite the occasional ear-splitting screech-screech of when Erwin moved around his pails--one for the waste skin and eyes placed under Erwin's knees; one for the potatoes and one for the carrots just off to the side--Levi thought he could get used to a life like this.

 

**********

 

"Which orphanage?" Erwin asked after what felt like a few hours of comfortable silence. His voice was low, but it traveled well across people-less spaces.

Levi looked up from the counter he was scrubbing, but found a wall blocking his view. "The one not far from the County Jail."

"The one that looked like a haunted mansion?" Erwin had passed it only a handful of times; it was at the other side of town from the Poly, and nowhere near his normal haunts. The mansion's front gates as well as its brick-and-stone facade were pushed up against the sidewalk, and children's noises could be heard from within. There must be a courtyard behind a building as large as the mansion, Erwin guessed, but every time he passed by it, he could not help but feel disturbed. The disembodied sounds of laughter and shrieks that floated out onto the street always managed to give him the heeby jeebies. The big weeping willow that graced the front of the mansion was no help either, especially at night, swaying in the breeze, making shadows dance like manic sprites.

"That's the one."

"Okay." A pause. It felt like Erwin was trying to ask something, but wasn't sure whether it would be prying too far. But at the moment, Levi would've divulged state secrets if only the other man would ask the question. "What do you want me to do after this?" Erwin asked instead; he was down to the last few potatoes. His hand was fairly smarting, little finger already losing sensation, and he's sure that he'd see potato-sized bruises against the sides of his knees.

"Nothing," Levi said.

Erwin was quiet for a while; the scrape-scrape-scrape had picked up speed. That's what you do sometimes, when you're at the home stretch, impatient to finish. A big sigh came soon after, then a huge scrape of stool being pushed back, and the high screech of a pail being pushed aside. "I"m done here," Erwin said.

Levi could imagine long legs being uncurled slowly from underneath a too-short stool, strong back straightening, cramped fingers flexing. "There's a nice sofa up on the second-floor landing you can use. The washroom is just off it," Levi said. He wished there wasn't a wall between here and the inner corridor; he didn't like it if he couldn't see the person he's talking to. Talking to the wall was starting to creep him out. "I'll bring up tea and sandwiches in a second."

"You don't need help? Where should I put the pails?"

"Leave 'em." Levi didn't want him traipsing around in the kitchen. He liked to hold onto those spotless tiles as long as possible. At least until the return of Isabel and Farlan and the kids, who would no doubt be bringing half the town's filth in with them. "Take a bloody rest." And then belatedly, "Please."

A deep chuckle floated out to him. He cursed once. And cursed again. At least sounds of the stairs creaking under Erwin's heavy treads muffled them all.

 

* * *

 

 

Isabel, Farlan and the children returned just in time for Levi to put a fresh pot of tea out. They came back not on foot but in a borrowed truck from Nanaba's _Bakery and Miscellany_. Levi all but goggled when Isabel opened up the truck's back door to reveal not just foodstuff but also boxes of second-hand clothes and things. He even spied some beat-up copper pans that he could still use.

Apparently, bringing the baby, three children, and a cripple was a good idea, Isabel joked. It earned her a good-natured elbow to her ribs from a grinning Farlan. The toothy six-some had thoroughly tugged at the heartstrings of the townspeople. Once they learned that Isabel and Farlan would be cooking for the orphanage, almost everyone at the market street began a game of Christmas one-upmanship. Add to that, the fact that it was going to be their first Christmas after the war ended.

Isabel told him that they had more than enough for the orphanage and the shelter combined. It was going to be a cheerful Christmas, she chirped as she supervised Erwin and Levi unload greens, stock, and meat into the kitchen.

The baby gurgled at them, one rosy cheek resting on Isabel's shoulder.

Levi found the three children toward the back of the truck, curled up against a huge paper bag overflowing with knitted shawls. They were spreading drool across the top-most shawl. It was such a garish yet sickly yellow, that Levi was not sorry about it being soiled.

Maybe a huge amount of grime and dust had gotten into his eyes from all the cleaning he did, because his eyes were starting to water. Much against his will, like a leaky tap.

He swore that all the cleaning he did throughout the day had tired him out, because he was sweating from his eyeballs. He sniffled (just one dignified sniff) next to the truck, and tried not to think about the big warm hand patting his back awkwardly.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Spud-and-Carrot Mash_ ([complete recipe](https://the1940sexperiment.com/2010/01/12/carrot-and-potato-mash/))  
>  Per 1 serving: boil then mash 2 potatoes, 1 carrot; add butter, salt and pepper to taste.


	4. Chapter 4

_It's officially the day after Christmas_ , Levi thought, as he reentered the main hall of the orphanage, now devoid of children and revelers. It looked like a Christmas factory had exploded in the room. He sighed at the sight of brightly-colored chaos. It's going to be a long night of cleaning, he thought. He liked cleaning, he found it therapeutic and calming most of the times, but this was definitely pushing it. 

"Kids tucked in?" 

"You should really stop sneaking on people," Levi groused, losing his train of thought. "But yes. They're all ay-a-bed, dead on their feet as they were." It was funny to see how the littler ones fought valiantly against sleep, and losing adorably. 

Erwin followed him to the cleaning closet under the stairs that held a formidable array of cleaning products and a selection of brooms and mops. Color-coded rags hanging in a row above several dustpans. Erwin didn't even know they came in different sizes and shapes. "You're not seriously going to start cleaning now, are you?"

Levi froze and turned around slowly. An eyebrow rose in a way that asked,  _are you dim?_

"What can I do to help?"

"You've been more than enough help since the afternoon," Levi said--Erwin peeled potatoes and carrots, mashed them once they're boiled, loading and unloading trucks, picking and putting down children who clambered up to him like a bunch of squirrels to a tree. "Aren't you hitching a ride with Moblit and Hange? Buses have stopped running for the night." Across the short hallway, he saw the silhouette of his two friends lurking around, apparently waiting for him. 

"What about you? How are you going to get home?" Erwin reached for a broom anyway, easily ignoring Levi's don't-you-dare-pick-that-up glare. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Moblit and Hange leaving, apparently taking a hint rather well. They waved at him, and he returned the wave at their receding backs. 

"I live here," Levi said, and saw Erwin froze. "What?"

"You... live here."

"What about it?" Levi growled, feeling suddenly defensive.

"Wait, how old _are_ you?"

"Old enough to work here and be given free room and board. Does that answer your question? You don't seriously think I'm so young as to still be _in_  foster care, do you?" Levi eyed Erwin suspiciously. The other man looked a bit red around the cheeks. "What does age matter between friends, anyway?"

"Friends," Erwin conceded. "Of course," Erwin added, after a short pause that fel too long. Perhaps he just had too many egg-nogs, they dull the wit, he had been told. "It's not like I thought you'd be as young as the trio. Sometimes I wondered if you're as young as my students."

"It's because I'm short, isn't it?"

"Far be it for me to insult you again, unintentional though it may be," Erwin laughed as he righted a tipped over chair by the fireplace. Soon enough, he was pulled into a rhythm that Levi had unwittingly set. He marveled at the way Levi seemed to be able to commandeer him around the room with minimal words and well-placed gestures. 

The hall was not big, but it was not small either, and there were only the two of them. And yet everything went like a breeze, even with all the debris the children had left (and if you knew children, you'd know that they don't do anything half-way; yes, even littering). 

They managed to square things away almost in what felt like no time at all. And yet, the clock idly ticking on the wall told him otherwise, and he was sure that his muscles would tell him something similar sooner or later. However, there's also that sense of accomplishment, a rush even, to see the recyclables in their proper places, the inedible food in the compost pile, even usable wrapping sheets on a neat pile having been smoothed down to be reused at a later time. The children, Erwin found (which both impressed and saddened him at the same time) had learned to not tear up wrapping paper into little pieces even in the height of their enthusiasm.

He took his time righting the stockings hung across the top of a dead fireplace. A blue and yellow one was stubbornly trying to remain askew. "You shouldn't let Levi boss you around," a voice from behind him said, enough to startle him into dropping the stocking on the floor altogether. 

He glanced sideways and saw a vaguely familiar face--perhaps one of the orphanage's administrators, if he remembered correctly. 

"Stop harassing him," Levi chided. 

"You should just leave it for the kids to clean up when they wake up."

"There are still going to be plenty for them to do," Levi huffed. "It's not like they'll suddenly forget how to make a mess. The yard needs cleaning, still."

Levi's grimace of distaste was so endearing that Erwin unintentionally let out a laugh, which he tried to suppress. It came out as a bark instead. 

"For that, you can help the kids clean all those mulch. I'm going to make tea for us." It was amazing how those nearly-bald trees could still make that much of a leafy mess even at this time of winter, Erwin marveled. 

He lacked sleep, his brain was eggnog-addled, a horde of children would be afoot sooner rather than later, more menial work loomed on the horizon. All in all, Erwin thought as he listened to the sound of Levi's bickering with someone in the small pantry around the corner, it was indeed shaping up to be quite a beautiful morning. 


End file.
